Just A Girl Caring For Her Sick Girlfriend But Failing Miserably
by Slushie Addict
Summary: Heather McNamara wants to take care of her sick girlfriend by cooking something healthy. Heather Chandler doesn't want her girlfriend to, and for good reasons.


Hey guys, Slushie Addict here! So as always, this is in an AU where everybody lives and everyone's not fucked up! And for once, it doesn't feature Heather Duke as a main character of a story with pairings in it! Yaaaaay! Alrighty then, I don't own Heathers!

XXXXXX

"Heather? Are you alright? I'm here to take care of you!" Heather McNamara asked Heather Chandler, who was bedridden with a high fever. Heather Chandler mumbled something, but Heather McNamara couldn't understand what was just said. "You're seriously burning up... Want me to make you something?"

"... Nnngh... Is that you Heather...?" Heather Chandler groaned, her eyes still closed shut. Heather McNamara immediately grabbed the sick Heather's hand, as though she was about to die. "Your hand is so cold..."

"Don't die Heather! Okay, I've decided! I'll make you some porridge! You'll feel a lot better after eating that!" Heather McNamara said, with Heather Chandler tightening her grip on the hand. "A-Are you in pain Heather?"

"No... don't... cook..." Heather Chandler wheezed out, coughing violently afterwards. "Please... if 'taking care of me' means cooking for me... then no..."

"It's gonna be okay, I promise I'll be back in at most 15 minutes!" Heather McNamara reassured her girlfriend, getting up from her seat to leave for the kitchen. Heather Chandler wasn't willing to let her go, but Heather McNamara had pried her hand out of Heather Chandler's pincer-like grip. "I'll be back soon okay? Just relax."

"Noooooo..." Heather Chandler whined, turning to face the window on her right. "Is it too late to look up how to escape from a bedroom window...?"

"YES! HEATHER CHANDLER YOU BETTER STAY IN BED! YOU ARE SICK!" Heather McNamara had apparently heard her sick girlfriend plotting to escape from the window, yelling at her from the first floor to perish that thought.

"... Maybe I can call Dad and ask him if our kitchen is insured..." Heather Chandler whimpered, trying to reach for the telephone on her bedside counter but falling out of bed instead. "God, I should have properly followed all those fire drills back in middle school..."

XXXXXX

"Hmm... Now how do I go about cooking porridge?" Heather McNamara wondered, opening the kitchen cabinets. Heather Chandler had a right to worry about her kitchen burning, Heather McNamara was far from being a good cook. In fact, she was so bad to the point that _no one_ trusted her enough to step foot into a kitchen. But there she was, finding ingredients to make porridge for a sick girl. She spent 30 minutes finding the ingredients, eventually locating a box of baking soda, some cola, two small boxes of rice cereal, a large slab of slimy meat and a jar filled with unknown white powder. Heather McNamara hoped that the jar contained salt, she wasn't able to tell the difference between salt and sugar as well as her peers.

"Heather... Just get something from 7-11... Please don't cook..." Heather Chandler groaned, dragging herself down the stairs with her blanket wrapped around her body. "I think I'm now a religious person... given that... I've prayed to God so many times in my life..."

"Heather! I thought I told you to stay in bed!"

"It's too sweaty... Lemme... go to the sofa or something..." Heather Chandler coughed, throwing herself onto her velvet sofa as she waited for Heather McNamara to cook the porridge. What she didn't mention was that the real reason she came down was in case the kitchen was on fire, the exit was much easier to access as compared to the second floor. "Call Veronica at least..."

"She's watching 'The Princess Bride' with Martha and JD."

"Heather?"

"I'm already here though?"

"Not you, other Heather."

"Oh her? She's in Indiana now."

"That's... the next state over..."

"Yup!"

"Ram?"

"Walking his dog."

"Kurt?"

"Babysitting!"

"Ms Fleming...?"

"Heather, why would you want her?! You have your girlfriend here looking after you, what more do you want?" Heather McNamara asked, slightly hurt that Heather Chandler would rather have Ms Fleming to take care of her than her very own girlfriend.

"Someone able to look after someone without fucking up."

"That sounds like me!"

"No Heather. You suck at this. Remember what happened to your goldfish that you have in third grade...?" Heather Chandler asked, referring to the head cheerleader's dead goldfish. It was perfectly normal for fishes to die by the time they were in high school, if only it wasn't due to mishandling the poor fish.

"That was an accident!"

"Yeeeeeah I don't wanna die..." Heather Chandler coughed, wheezing as she tried to convince her girlfriend not to cook. "I really... love you Heather, more than anything... But you fucking suck at taking care of people... and by that, I meant cooking... so please... just cuddle with me or something... maybe I'll get better?"

"I'll cuddle you later? Right now, I'm gonna cook for you whether you want me to or not!" Heather McNamara decided, focusing on the ingredients in front of her. "Making porridge is a piece of cake!"

"... I have a bad feeling she's going to add baking soda into the porridge..." Heather Chandler correctly guessed as her girlfriend dumped all of the baking soda into a bowl. "God have mercy on my soul..."

XXXXXX

"Alright! Porridge is ready~" Heather McNamara beamed, holding up a piping hot bowl. She walked over to Heather Chandler, who had dozed off five minutes after Heather McNamara started to add the ingredients in. Besides, Heather Chandler really preferred to be unconscious while Heather McNamara went about making 'porridge'. And for good reason too, the porridge was an ominous black, chunks of something unknown bobbing to the surface, it smelt like rotten fruit and the bowl holding the 'porridge' looked as though it would cry. "Heather~ Wakey wakey!"

"Urgh... gah!" The first thing Heather experience was the smell of the food hitting her nostrils, burning her sense of smell. Heather Chandler warily opened her eyes, and was promptly greeted by the black substance. She wanted to throw up, but the innocently proud beam on her girlfriend's face prevented her from doing so. Never had she seen someone who was so bad at cooking, and she just so happened to be her girlfriend. "H-Heather... what... what _is_ that?!"

"Porridge silly! Now eat up when it's still hot!" Heather McNamara replied, holding up a spoonful of the substance. Heather Chandler wanted to cry, she really do. But she didn't want to worry her girlfriend even further, and so she did the unthinkable and opened her mouth, waiting for Heather McNamara to feed her. She did, and once the substance touched her tongue...

"THIS IS FUCKING DISGUSTING! WHAT THE HELL DID YOU USE?!" The taste was terrible beyond belief, it took every ounce of her being to swallow that 'porridge'.

"Oh I couldn't find rice, so I used rice cereal!"

"Why does it taste so sweet?!"

"Maybe it's because of the cola?"

"Cola isn't this texture though?!"

"I think it solidified after I boiled it in the pot..."

"You BOILED cola?!"

"Yeah! Wait, shouldn't it taste salty too?"

"It tastes like you're trying to give me fucking diabetes!"

"Ooh so that white powder was sugar... Shucks."

"Don't 'shucks' me! What the fuck is that floating thing in the bowl anyways?!"

"Uh... I think that's the meat?"

"You added meat into the porridge?!"

"Yeah! Protein and all that crap?"

"God Heather, you're worse than we thought! Why is the porridge so... powdery anyways?"

"I guess that's the baking soda?"

"You really added _that_ in...?!"

"Yeah, thank god it didn't bake the porridge when I put it in the oven."

"O-Oven?!"

"To heat it up of course!"

"... That's it..." Heather Chandler mumbled, deciding to just end her agony right there and then. "Heather, go get Dad's gun."

"... Why?"

"I want to shoot myself in the head for getting a girlfriend that is horrible at cooking."

"... You don't have to be so mean..." Heather McNamara mumbled, her feet starting to feel wet. "Strange, I thought I just fixed the tap..."

"Heather, forget the gun. Call a fucking plumber instead."

XXXXXX

"You know Heather, you're not making me feel better. You're making me feel _worse_." Heather Chandler sighed, gulping down the cold medicine she had sent Heather McNamara out to get. Currently, her house was still flooded as the plumbing service was busy, her kitchen was most likely in a state of disarray (Heather Chandler was too afraid to check) and she was really hungry as she refused to take another bite of Heather McNamara's 'porridge'.

"I know. I failed as a girlfriend." Heather McNamara admitted, her head dropped down in shame. She just wanted to help, but even _she_ knew that she fucked up badly. At least Heather Chandler seemed better after eating the medicine. "... Should I... go home now?"

"... No. you owe me cuddles. Lots of cuddles." Heather Chandler replied, leaning on the taller girl's shoulder. She was warm, and Heather Chandler felt comfortable just lying on the sofa with her beloved girlfriend as she watched smoke pouring out from the kitchen. She still didn't dare to know the extent of the damage Heather McNamara had caused, but she hoped that it was something money could easily fix.

"Okay." Heather McNamara replied, cuddling her sick girlfriend. She knew that the chance of herself getting sick was present, but she decided that it was worth it. Plus, seeing Heather Chandler, demon queen of Westerburg, acting like a child was something she didn't see every day. _'She's so pretty. Even without her makeup or her hair brushed, she's still beautiful...'_

"... Do we have homework today?"

"I don't think so, Heather has your stuff."

"Damn it, she's in the next state now..."

"She said that she'll be back by evening."

"Still fuck." Heather Chandler stopped, turning to Heather McNamara. "... Hey Heather, what are the chances of you getting sick if we fuck right now?"

"Heather, I may really suck at taking care of people but even I know that now's not the time to have sex..."

"I know, but I feel horny whenever I'm sick... So will you get sick if we fuck now?" Heather McNamara blinked, staring into Heather Chandler's misty grey eyes. They betrayed the owner's lust, specifically for Heather McNamara. Heather McNamara gulped, while she really wanted to bed her sick girlfriend now, it was precisely because she was sick that was why she restrained herself. Still... "Well? Wanna fuck in my bedroom? Or are you okay with the sofa?"

"... Are you sure you're okay to even have sex? You look pretty weak to me..." Heather McNamara decided that it was best to be the good girlfriend and not take advantage of Heather Chandler, no matter how willing the latter was. She didn't seem to take the hint and started grinding her knee against the head cheerleader's panties, soaking it immediately. "A-Ah! H-Heather!"

"Let me rephrase myself, I want to fuck you _now_. That was just me asking you if you're able to get sick from fucking a sick girl." Heather Chandler bit Heather McNamara's ear, and would have probably went even further if the door didn't open to reveal a tall blond man with eyes similar to Heather Chandler's. "Fuck me gently with a chainsaw, Dad sure has perfect timing."

"Why is there water up to my ankles? And why does it smell like you burnt something? And why the hell are your hands inside Ms McNamara's underwear?!" Mr Chandler asked, groaning at the sight. Heather Chandler simply stuck her tongue out at her father before proceeding to shove it into Heather McNamara's mouth. "Jesus honey, if you want to fuck your girlfriend, at least wait until you're all better. And maybe save it for the bedroom."

"She said that she was sexually aroused whenever she's sick..." Heather McNamara mumbled, too busy kissing Heather Chandler. She wanted to stop, but the kisses were just too addictive to stop. "Heather, at least pull your hand out of my panties..."

"No. We're gonna fuck even if Dad's here." Heather Chandler replied, dominating the kiss with an intensity few could manage. Mr Chandler sighed, entering the kitchen only for him to exclaim in horror.

"Oh Christ! How the fuck is my kitchen completely black?!"

XXXXXX

 _Extra: Monday, three days after the main story_

"Pffffft hahahahaha! That's what happened last Friday?!" JD laughed, along with the two jocks. Heather Duke shook her head in amazement, while Veronica and Martha cringed in disbelief. Heather McNamara pouted, mumbling that she wasn't _that_ bad of a cook.

"Heather, even Dad begged you to never cook anything for me again." Heather Chandler pointed out, remembering her father offering Heather McNamara a huge sum of money in an attempt to prevent the head cheerleader from stepping foot into his kitchen again. It was even hilarious when even Mr McNamara offered his daughter an increase in her pocket money just so that she'll never step foot in any kitchen again once he heard about the incident from Mr Chandler.

"Oh come on, I find it hard to believe that Mac's a terrible cook. You're just lying." Veronica said, with Heather Chandler pulling out a dark blue box from her bag and handing it to Veronica. "So you finally decided to return me my lunchbox."

"Yeah, whatever. There's food inside if you want." Veronica opened the box up, revealing the black substance Heather McNamara called 'porridge'.

"What the fuck is this?!"

"Heather's porridge, she made it for me on Friday. It's filled with her love, so eat up!" Heather Chandler wickedly grinned, scaring everyone but the Heathers. Veronica gulped, glancing at Heather McNamara with worry. "What's wrong? I thought you said that I'm lying when I say that my girlfriend's cooking is shit."

"Veronica, here's a tip. Apologise to Heather right now and maybe she'll allow you to let me eat it. Which for the record, I'm not _that_ desperate from the looks of that thing." Heather Duke warned, eyeing the black substance with interest. "Heather, did you burn it into a crisp or something?"

"No, I boiled cola until it solidified."

"Gross much?! All those calories in one box... only you can perform such a feat."

"At least I don't use the pets of others to cook dinner."

"Your goldfish was dead. You put him in boiling hot water." Heather Duke groaned, noticing solids on the glossy black surface. "Please tell me that the solids I see is rice."

"Heather didn't even use rice at all. She used rice cereal. That's meat." Heather Chandler explained, sending the guys reeling away from the table. "Trust me, she added baking soda into the porridge. It tastes weird."

"And disgusting. Geez, you always say that my cooking sucks because I'm Asian, but from the looks of it, you're the Asian here." Heather Duke grimaced, stabbing the solid with her fork. Once she pulled out, it pulled up everything from the box. "Sticky much?!"

"It's a racial stereotype that Asians are bad at cooking right?" Martha asked, covering her eyes.

"Dude, Asian or not, Heather sucks big time at cooking." Ram shuddered, trying his very best to not hurl up whatever he had eaten for lunch ten minutes ago.

"And at sucking dicks. She's bad at that too." Kurt added, earning himself a smack from JD. "Ow?! I didn't say that you suck balls at sucking me off!"

"That was rude, you shouldn't tell a lady how bad they are at sex especially when her friends are at the table." JD replied, shooting Heather McNamara an apologetic look. "And for the record, I made you scream so loud last night that your folks praised me afterwards."

"It's fine, I'm never good with guys anyways." Heather McNamara shrugged, leaning on her girlfriend's padded shoulder.

"Veronica! Give me your lunchbox! I want to drop this thing!" Heather Duke screamed after seeing the 'porridge' move. Veronica vehemently shook her head, cradling her box protectively.

"Fuck no! I'm considering burning my box after getting contaminated by some bio-hazardous substance!"

"Well I don't care, I don't even _want_ to purge this outta me later!"

"Then throw it into the bin!"

"I can't get it off my fork!"

"... You did just use baking soda, cola, sugar, rice cereal and an _inanimate_ slab of meat right?" Heather Chandler asked Heather McNamara worriedly, seeing that the black mass was starting to engulf the fork.

"Well... it was slimy but it's not moving so yes?"

"... Heather, you used a whole squid. A whole, _living_ squid."

"So... it didn't die in the oven?"

"... Maybe we shouldn't tell them that the black mass is the reincarnation of a squid."

"I really suck as a girlfriend."

"Yeah, but I love you nonetheless." Heather Chandler whispered, tenderly kissing Heather McNamara's cheek.

XXXXXX

Hey Slushie Addict here! I'm surprised at myself, the whole story was written from my phone within an hour! Haha, new record~ Anyways, I really wanted to put a sex scene in it, but I suck at describing sex scenes so I just made it bordering on the M rating. Mr Chandler's a cock blocker with perfect timing, and accepts that his daughter plans to fuck her girlfriend too! And while Kurt's parents are homophobic still, JD was so damn good at sex that they wished they had a sex god for a son! Just explaining in case you guys are wondering. Anyways, see you guys next time!


End file.
